You'd Do Well To Remember That
by Elizabeth Carter
Summary: I loath Maven Blackbrier. She needs a lesson in manners. This is a retake from the meeting upstairs in the Bee and Barb Tavern. female Dunmer Dovahkiin


AUTHOR: Elizabeth E. Carter

TITLE: You'd Do Well To Remember That

SERIES: Elder Scrolls / Skyrim

RATING: T

SUMMARY: I loath Maven Blackbrier. She needs a lesson in manners. female Dunmer Dovahkiin

DISCLAIMER: Bethesda owns the concept of Skyrim and all of its characters. This fanfic is for entertainment and no profit what-so-ever. My Dovahkiin is the only thing I own of the story.

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"…..you'd do well to remember that the next time you make such a stupid observation." Maven Blackbrier's tone grew cold and sharp, her eyes burned in obvious contempt.

Byrnwolf raved about his newest recruit as if she were Nocturnal's own blessing. Fool. He'd pay for this insult. What was he thinking sending her a sodding ice-brained gray-skin? Granted all dark elves were thieves, still this one could hardly be considered competent. To ask such obvious insolent questions. The Blackbriers were the Rift!

Blood red eyes glowered. The mild curiosity in the angular face changed as swiftly as the flurries of snow fall. Something else reflected now in those eyes, something more frigide than the North wind. Maven hadn't even seen her move, now the gray skin was as close to her as a lover. Her pale blue lips close to her ear. Malice and loathing filled the voice that was once friendly and aloof.

"I despise rudeness; apparently Nord nobility are utterly incapable of true civility. But alas you are only a human and not mer, how can you grasp a concept such as good manners? I will say this once human. I _am_ Dovahkiin. I converse with dragons; do you truly think to terrify me with your mere terrestrial threats? I've killed more than forty of those beasts and consumed their souls. My greatest prey is Alduin the World Eater, and I _will_ have him. I will devour his soul as I have so many dovah."

Maven had heard that a Dunmer was the Dragonborn, but she had not thought to encounter her. The rumors were abound in Skyrim of the great feats of the Dovahkiin. She had the power of the Thumm, greater than Ulfric's command of the Voice, for his was learned while the Dragonborn's talents came from her very blood. A birthright. She had slain more than two dozen dragons single-handedly. It was said the woman was without fear, for she ran directly, deliberately into battle with the blighted creatures.

"More than that, human. You have invoked the name of the Dark Brotherhood, without the eyes to see what leathers I wear. That I find the most grievous of insults. I _am_ the Dark Brotherhood. And I swear by Sithis, I will send my Dread Father your loathsome soul without the dark ritual having been preformed."

The unfamiliar feeling of dread filled Maven's body. The ice in the girl's voice filled the older woman's blood as she hissed:

"We are not in the palm of your hand as that fool Mercer who heads the Thieves' Guild. We do not cower simply because your name is spoken. You can never command us! You have no dominion over the Brotherhood. I _am_ as if birthed from the Unholy Matron's very womb by dread Father's seed. I _am_ the child of Sithis.

" I _am_ the Night Mother's Listener. I am their chosen." A baleful smile slid across the ashen-blue face. "Who do you think it was that slew the Emperor's cousin at her own wedding? Or the Man, himself on his own ship?" The smiled darkened. "Truly they were glorious kills. I am but one woman and I did what took the Mythic Dawn several to do two hundred years ago. What are you to me old crone but a pebble in my boot?"

The blade at the human's throat bit deeper. A ribbon of blood grew upon pale Nord flesh. "This is the _Blade of Woe_, once wielded by Atris the former Mistress of the Skyrim Sanctuary. By the Night Mother's own command, I killed my sister and took her prized weapon from her chard dead hand. The name of the blade has more meaning to me than you can possibly fathom. But it will bring a smile to my lips to have the blade create a little ruby necklace along that wrinkled neck for you.

"I will be generous only this once you withed old hag and allow your miserable pampered pretentious life to continue. I will not hunt your sons or that cute daughter of yours because of your insolence. Pray to your Eight Divines that my benevolence continues. Do you understand human?"

Maven managed to nod.

"Good. The true patriarch of the Silverbloods once made the same mistake you did. He was corrupt and very rude. I escaped his accursed mine after I slaughtered the all the prisoners. I then gutted the slimy git in the street just like a skeever. The children and wives of the corrupt guards that dared to pin murders I did _not_ commit upon me, lay dead. The lamentations of those men were hymns to Sithis. 'You'd do well to remember that the next time you make such a stupid remark'.

"I play the part of novice thief _only _because it amuses me to do so. Having a foothold within the guild is…covenant for the Brotherhood but not completely necessary. Now I'm going to go play with some barbarian Nord and his meedary, because _you_ can't handle a little healthy competition. I will be back when I have completed the job."

As swiftly was the Dunmer was in Maven's personal space, she was gone from matriarch's side. She spun on her heel and with swift soundless grace the elf literally vanished from sight.

True terror resided in Maven Blackbrier's heart. Oh yes she had had dealings with the Dark Brotherhood. She had preformed the profane the dark ritual more than once. Atris, Mistress of the assassins had come to her and taken the contracts. But Atris had not brought the dread that was within that elven woman. None of the assassins Maven had come in contact with over the years had have chilled her so. The blood red eyes were as cold and as deep as the Void.

She had overplayed her hand, had underestimated the dark elf. It was something Maven would never do again. The Listener…she who was Dragonborn had all but declared herself Maven Blackbrier's enemy. She was alive only because the Listener allowed it.

Typically when an enemy of the Blackbrier's dared raised its head; Maven was swift to cut it down. Her ties within the Empire were either dead or were unwilling to move against the Dovahkiin. While the Blackbrier reputation amongst the plebs of Skyrim, of the Rift feared Maven because of her ties to the Dark Brotherhood, none knew the truth of it. The dark band of assassins was not on retainer as she had the Thieves guild; Maven had merely been a contract holder, nothing more. Anyone else in the same situation could have boasted to the same claim, that they had connections to the assassins.

Atris might have been a political minded woman, but this Dunmer, this…Dragonborn Listener was nothing of the sort. She was as she said, a child of Sithis. No, politics did not motivate her; power outside that of the dovah did not move her, only the service to the Night Mother did. No doubt in her ruby eyes Atris had been a heretic, even if it was as it sounded she lamented over killing her sister.

Maven had to repair the damage. Anyone who regularly dined upon the souls of dragons was not one with whom to fuck. Again fear held Maven firmly rooted in the chair she had sat upon during the exchange she had with the assassin.


End file.
